I don't blame him I just wish
by ksas4
Summary: A journal entry of Bella's internal ramblings, fears and insecurities. Bella and Edward have been married for 10 years and have two children. Chapter Two is Edwards thoughts  OOC   AH
1. Chapter 1

_**I don't blame him…I just wish…**_

He doesn't touch my legs, like he used to, because of the fat.

He doesn't put his hands on my stomach or back, like he used to, because of the fat.

He doesn't run his hands along my arms, like he used to, because of the fat.

He doesn't cuddle me, like he used to, because of the fat.

I cringe when he looks at my skin – blotchy, stretch marked, pimpled, spotty, freckled and wrinkled.

I hide my body from his view because I am embarrassed. I am ashamed of my fat, stretch marked, cellulite dimpled bottom, my wide thighs, my saggy, stretch marked breasts (one of which is scarred and smaller than the other), my flabby arms and horrendous abdomen that is not only home to numerous fat rolls now but also bears a scar. I am ashamed of how I look. I am too short and my features are plain. My clothes never fit properly and my dress size has steadily increased over the years.

_..._..._..._..._..._..._..._

However, after years of marriage I finally have the courage and determination to let my guard down a little, expose myself to my fears about how he views me and he seems to be repulsed.

I don't blame him though.

I am repulsed too.

I am a disappointment – how could I let my body get this way?

He used to touch and kiss me all the time.

He used to want to hold me and kiss me no matter where we were or who could see.

He used to want to be passionate and affectionate.

Not anymore.

When I had a body to be proud of I was such a nervous wreck that I shied away.

I ruined us.

My fears and insecurities ruined us.

My negative body image ruined us.

Lately I have tried to be more confident, demonstrate my willingness to change, be bold in my words and actions, to be more affectionate.

It doesn't work.

It's too late.

I don't blame him.

I do not have the same body or skin as I did when we met.

He used to take such pride in telling people that when he wrapped his hands around my waist his fingers could touch. He can't do that anymore. I feel shame.

He used to say he loved my back. Now it has fat rolls. He doesn't say that anymore. I feel shame.

He used to want to sit next to me all the time. Not anymore.

I feel rejected.

I sometimes wonder if I just imagined his attraction to me. Were all of the things I thought he used to like just me trying to make myself believe he wanted to be with me.

I was and still am crippled with insecurity and lack of self worth at times and I cannot blame him for not wanting to be near me. What do I have to offer him other than fat and awful skin? Who wants to look at and touch and be intimate with a body like mine?

And so I try to exercise to change my shape. I try to improve my skin too. But I have let my body change too much I fear. I feel such torment.

So I try to make myself more attractive to him. I dress my body up with make-up and lingerie but that comes off and I am left with nothing to hide the fat and awful skin.

He is so quiet when we have sex. It is always right before he wants to go to sleep. I try to stay quiet because he doesn't like it when I am loud. He needs release like any other man and in those moments when he holds me, kisses me, touches me I relish the physical closeness when his hands and lips are on my skin. There are times when I feel so connected to him and in that moment I am at peace. I am not the self conscious, worried, paranoid trembling, bumbling mess. I feel cherished.

_..._..._..._..._..._..._..._

How I wish for romantic gestures and thoughtfulness.

How I wish he would reach for my hand as we sit or walk and rub his thumb over the back of my hand. How I wish he would guide me with a hand on the small of my back when we are out together. How I wish he would lean his arm over my shoulder and bring my into his side carefully, casually. How I wish he would show pride in being with me by being affectionate.

How I wish he would cradle my face as we stand facing one another. How I wish he would lean in and kiss me softly for endless minutes. How I wish he would run his hands down my neck slowly as the kiss builds in intensity.

How I wish he would trail kisses from my mouth down my neck and back again as his hands travelled up and down my arms gently. How I wish he would place his hands on my hips, kissing the back of my neck as he walks me to bed.

How I wish he would rest his body fully on mine, leaning on his elbows. How I wish his hands would caress my skin and hair as he kisses my shoulders, my cheeks, the sides of my mouth. How I wish he would kiss me tenderly and tell me why he loves me. How I wish he would trail his hand along my thigh as we kissed some more.

How I wish he would just kiss me like we used to….sometimes we used to kiss for ages and touch each other so lovingly. We would sit on the couch, lie on a bed or stand in our own little bubble and share kisses and touches.

How I wish he would make love to me slowly, our bodies connected, skin to skin, as his moves. How I wish he would tell me quietly what he was thinking whilst we made love, his hands gripping my shoulders whilst mine wrapped around his neck.

_..._..._..._..._..._..._..._

How I wish for passion and desire.

How I wish he would grab me in a passionate embrace, one hand at the base of my neck, the other on my hip as he kisses me hard. How I wish he would continue the kiss, slowing to a leisurely pace whilst his hands roamed along my back and sides.

How I wish he would press me into the wall or door, his body flush with mine as he kisses me with desire whispering ways he would like to show me how he much he loves me.

How I wish he would kiss and caress me more when we have sex. How I wish he would worship my body as I lie beneath him. How I wish he would use touch and kisses to build the tension. How I wish he would lavish attention on my most sensitive areas with his mouth and tongue until I quivered in release. How I wish he would read my body for signals of what felt good to both of us as I do for him. I wish he would watch my face and feel my muscles tighten and relax and commit those moments to memories of "what we like" as we move together. I wish he would voice what he likes and what he wants me to do. I would be more relaxed and confident if I knew I was satisfying him.

How I wish that I was feminine and pretty. How I wish that my clothes fit me properly.

I wish I hadn't ruined everything. But I have. So I cherish the moments he gives me when we can connect intimately…

… and I wish.


	2. Chapter 2

Fat – no she isn't. According to her she is one or two kilograms over her recommended weight. I believe her but I don't see it as a bad thing. She looks beautiful to me.

She is too hard on herself.

She has an amazing body. She is healthier now than she has ever been.

Doesn't she realize that she was really too thin when we met.

My poor Bella is so sexy to me. And it's because she is a healthier weight now. I wish she would stop comparing her body as it is now to the one she had when she was nineteen. Her health, mental and physical, used to suffer.

She used to faint. She used to put herself down.

She used to hide her body with baggy, plain, boring clothes. Yet I still loved her.

She was awkward, shy, some might say prudish. I fell in love with her.

She was different from the girls my friends hooked up with. They were easy, slutty.

On our first date, to the movies, we sat and talked over coffee for a couple of hours. I had never done that with a girl before. Just sitting and talking that way helped us to understand each other right from the get go.

I fell in love with Bella within weeks of meeting her.

She has given me so much of herself and I think that is why she is once again self conscious about her body. It's odd though because at the same time she has never been as confident about our intimate relationship. She never used to initiate anything, would always turn the lights off and never really relaxed or enjoyed anything we did.

That all changed when she turned thirty-five. She became a sexy vixen who would flirt openly, sending suggestive texts to me whilst I was at work. She even started to wear lingerie. The biggest shock was the "research" she did. That was her way of letting me know that she wanted us to watch the porn clips she liked together.

We have become more open with each other about what we do and don't like in the bedroom. We talk so openly each time we are intimate and this seems to be helping to break down some of her fears.

I love her for fact that she is trying so hard for the sake of our relationship.  
>One thing is for sure….<p>

It's high time that I started to match her efforts myself.


End file.
